


Or

by yeaka



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 17:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21274931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: A quick alternative take on Ray waking up after his release.





	Or

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Set during a scene in S3e1.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Travelers or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The dull, incoherent dream ebbs away, and Philip’s standing there, smiling down at him like some sort of ex-junkie angel. It’s not a giant grin, which are rare for Philip, but a small, subtle thing that still tells Ray that everything’s alright. Ray doesn’t feel alright. But for those first few seconds, Ray’s too distracted to care. He just stares up at Philip: a gorgeous vision to face first thing in the morning. Philip really has become _gorgeous._ He was decently hot before, but now he’s clean and it shows: confidence and contentment have evened out the creases in his face. He’s truly _handsome_, or maybe Ray’s just over romanticizing because he feels like a drunk wreck that’s been run over by a car, and somehow Philip’s there promising salvation. 

Then Ray’s vision clears, and he realizes he’s not looking up at his own bedroom ceiling. He’s at Philip’s place. He’s in Philip’s bed. His breath hitches, and for that brief moment, his mind reels through possibilities. Clearly, he fucked up last night. He got too drunk or too stoned. He doesn’t remember a damn thing. Philip’s still there anyway. Philip doesn’t look disgusted or angry, which means either drunk-Ray didn’t act on his borderline obsessive desires or Philip didn’t mind. 

It seems highly unlikely that drunk-Ray spent a night wild enough for a blackout with a guy as hot as Philip and _didn’t_ make a pass. He’s been wanting to run his fingers through Philip’s long hair for about as long as he’s wanted whatever fancy algorithm’s resting inside Philip’s pretty head. And they’re not just on the couch. Ray’s in Philip’s _bed_, maybe the only bed in the shitty warehouse Ray rented out for him, so maybe they shared it—maybe they got a little rowdy and realized they might as well just shut up and make out.

Maybe he finally got to fuck Philip’s cute brains out, or maybe Philip fucked him and was a particular brutal top that absolutely obliterated Ray’s body, and that’s why he feels like shit now. That would almost make it worth it. He just wishes he could remember. Philip’s fully dressed, in a tight-fitted black top that makes Ray just want to reach out and squeeze his tits. Maybe Ray could even pull Philip back down onto the bed and make a memory he’ll actually keep this time.

As Ray blearily blinks up at him, trying to figure out just how far they got before Ray passed out, Philip wryly drawls, “There he is.”

It’s said softly, but it still rings in Ray’s ears. He scrunches his face up, lifting his hand to it, and grits out, “Oh, Jesus... keep it down a bit, man.” That’s when he looks down his own body and realizes that he’s still fully dressed, right up to his tie. There’s no way they fucked without losing a single button. He would’ve at least wrestled his tie off. Disappointment sinks in, even though he knew a relationship was unlikely anyway. It would’ve probably been creepy if he’d tried. 

At least Philip’s smiling. So they’re still good. Ray contents himself with that and settles in to hear the latest tale of how he royally fucked his life.


End file.
